Camping
Rowdy Son has decided to be a boy scout. Seriously. Not as in, "Oh, wouldn't it be fun to go scouting, earn badges and help little old ladies cross the street?", but as in, "I want to be an Eagle Scout. How do we do that?"
"We" means me. Because we homeschool, we joined a nice troop of homeschooled boys. Because we homeschool, they wanted to camp during the week to take advantage of "no crowds". Because we homeschool, mr. herewegoagain was totally off the hook on this one. Not to mention, he was off the hook anyway since his reaction to our new-found avocation was "Are you serious?" followed by "You must be crazy". This is not a dissing of scouting. Far from it. This is a look-me-up-and-down-and-know-my-every-thought from a husband to a wife. He was right. I was crazy.
I guess I thought boy scouting would be making moccasins out of leather-working kits, serving cookies at troop meetings and strugging with sewing on the many, many badges we would earn as a hard-working homeschooling family who takes things seriously.
I didn't know that scouting is, um, camping. LOTS of camping. Camping primitively. Camping in snow. Camping in heat. Camping when there is really no good reason to camp. Camping for the sole purpose of canoeing for four hours at a time. Camping for the absolutely crazy purpose of hiking 20 miles at a time. All of the above requiring a parent (me!) to tag along for "the fun".
The great thing about our little troop is that it is family friendly. That means that Sweet Girl and the chihuahua were welcome. That actually meant that Sweet Girl added her two cents to the camping plea...when Rowdy Son asked if we could go, she plaintively mentioned..."I've never been camping".
(Time out here to mention we live on three acres surrounded by fifty acres of nothing on one side, 20 on the other, no one for miles across the street...lots of deer. Stars at night. Bonfires when we want them. Who NEEDS CAMPING?????).
They do.
So, I said, "Sure". I was such a trooper. Pun intended. We planned for days. I made Rowdy Son get out our 20-year-old tent and put it up three times by himself. I shopped at Walmart for all the necessities...cool telescooping hot dog/marshmallow skewers, lanterns that needed expensive batteries, bug spray, clothesline, wet wipes, and more. Let's just say, after I left Walmart I was $200.00 poorer (about the cost of a lovely night in a luxury hotel, but nooooooo, I was headed to the woods).
We set up the tent, we checked out our site, we swam, we kayaked, we canoed. We were in our swimsuit with every dry item of clothing we owned in our tent when the skies opened. And I mean OPENED. It was at that point that I asked what was covering everyone else's tent. "You mean the rain fly?". Um, yeah. We didn't have one. After 45 minutes of a non-stop deluge, the rain stopped to a drizzle and I left our not-so-dry shelter to go to our very-not-so-dry tent. EVERYTHING was wet. I was wearing a wet swimsuit and had my pick of two pairs of wet jeans, an assortment of wet shirts and absolutely no dry bedding to choose from for the long night ahead. The kids had a play tent in the car, and we took that out so they could be sort of dry. I had the family tent, the dog, a wet sheet for covers and wet towels for a pillow. The chihuahua was a nice heater, except for the fact that she emitted a low growl at every rustle. Do you know how many rustles there are in the woods at night? Do you know how LONG that night was? Oh, I forgot to mention one thing. I was ASSURED that we would be near "the facilities". I was PROMISED that we would be a short walk from running water. Apparently to scouts and middle-aged women short walks are very different things. I spent the better part of early morning (from 4 to 6 am) debating whether I was brave enough to walk to the restroom. In the end, I took my fearless chihuahua with me, who basically shivered in fear and cold all for the entire 1/2 mile hike. Or, maybe that was me.
The next morning, Sweet Girl greeted me with shining eyes. "Mom," she exclaimed, "This is the best time of my life. Can we camp every month?" I just stared at her.
"We" means me. Because we homeschool, we joined a nice troop of homeschooled boys. Because we homeschool, they wanted to camp during the week to take advantage of "no crowds". Because we homeschool, mr. herewegoagain was totally off the hook on this one. Not to mention, he was off the hook anyway since his reaction to our new-found avocation was "Are you serious?" followed by "You must be crazy". This is not a dissing of scouting. Far from it. This is a look-me-up-and-down-and-know-my-every-thought from a husband to a wife. He was right. I was crazy.
I guess I thought boy scouting would be making moccasins out of leather-working kits, serving cookies at troop meetings and strugging with sewing on the many, many badges we would earn as a hard-working homeschooling family who takes things seriously.
I didn't know that scouting is, um, camping. LOTS of camping. Camping primitively. Camping in snow. Camping in heat. Camping when there is really no good reason to camp. Camping for the sole purpose of canoeing for four hours at a time. Camping for the absolutely crazy purpose of hiking 20 miles at a time. All of the above requiring a parent (me!) to tag along for "the fun".
The great thing about our little troop is that it is family friendly. That means that Sweet Girl and the chihuahua were welcome. That actually meant that Sweet Girl added her two cents to the camping plea...when Rowdy Son asked if we could go, she plaintively mentioned..."I've never been camping".
(Time out here to mention we live on three acres surrounded by fifty acres of nothing on one side, 20 on the other, no one for miles across the street...lots of deer. Stars at night. Bonfires when we want them. Who NEEDS CAMPING?????).
They do.
So, I said, "Sure". I was such a trooper. Pun intended. We planned for days. I made Rowdy Son get out our 20-year-old tent and put it up three times by himself. I shopped at Walmart for all the necessities...cool telescooping hot dog/marshmallow skewers, lanterns that needed expensive batteries, bug spray, clothesline, wet wipes, and more. Let's just say, after I left Walmart I was $200.00 poorer (about the cost of a lovely night in a luxury hotel, but nooooooo, I was headed to the woods).
We set up the tent, we checked out our site, we swam, we kayaked, we canoed. We were in our swimsuit with every dry item of clothing we owned in our tent when the skies opened. And I mean OPENED. It was at that point that I asked what was covering everyone else's tent. "You mean the rain fly?". Um, yeah. We didn't have one. After 45 minutes of a non-stop deluge, the rain stopped to a drizzle and I left our not-so-dry shelter to go to our very-not-so-dry tent. EVERYTHING was wet. I was wearing a wet swimsuit and had my pick of two pairs of wet jeans, an assortment of wet shirts and absolutely no dry bedding to choose from for the long night ahead. The kids had a play tent in the car, and we took that out so they could be sort of dry. I had the family tent, the dog, a wet sheet for covers and wet towels for a pillow. The chihuahua was a nice heater, except for the fact that she emitted a low growl at every rustle. Do you know how many rustles there are in the woods at night? Do you know how LONG that night was? Oh, I forgot to mention one thing. I was ASSURED that we would be near "the facilities". I was PROMISED that we would be a short walk from running water. Apparently to scouts and middle-aged women short walks are very different things. I spent the better part of early morning (from 4 to 6 am) debating whether I was brave enough to walk to the restroom. In the end, I took my fearless chihuahua with me, who basically shivered in fear and cold all for the entire 1/2 mile hike. Or, maybe that was me.
The next morning, Sweet Girl greeted me with shining eyes. "Mom," she exclaimed, "This is the best time of my life. Can we camp every month?" I just stared at her.
posted by herewegoagain at
6:33 PM
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